


Tiny Frosted Bottle

by ThisCatastrophe



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Dominance, Edo Period, F/M, Fighting Kink, Home Invasion, Rope Bondage, Spoiler Alert - Freeform, don't drink mystery liquids kids, fantasy viagra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 17:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisCatastrophe/pseuds/ThisCatastrophe
Summary: Uchiha Itachi, upon learning he's going to be married off to a stranger in a few months, decides to scout out his new spouse's family manor. He drinks something he shouldn't have and gets caught. A fight, and then a sex, ensues. Shamelessly NSFW.





	Tiny Frosted Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Another commissioned work for @EggtachiArt on Twitter. TW for work themes that are similar to themes in dubcon/noncon works, though this story isn't either; also TW for consensual sexual violence following a fistfight, and for inadvertent drug use.

Uchiha Itachi never meant to pick this fight. He tumbled through a ricepaper wall, arms coiled over his head to keep the splintering wood of the support posts off his face, and braced for the inevitable strike to his belly once his opponent flew in after him.

In the month shosho, father Fugaku sat him down and told him he’d be married off to the heir of the Tachibana family, Naomi, in the month soko as winter was just settling in. That was seven solar terms away. Seven solar terms, and he’d be married to a woman he didn’t know at all.

Of course, the union would draw a close to the political tension between their houses. And it would unite the Uchiha and Tachibana family militaries. That would be a good thing for sure--assuming the heir’s fighting skills were any indication of the family’s military might, the combined family military would be unstoppable. 

Speaking of the heir. Tachibana Naomi leapt through the broken ricepaper wall, her unbound yukata sleeves snagging on broken beams, and pounced for him, already swinging. He avoided her fists, pulling himself backwards across the floor and trying to get the soles of his feet on the floor and out of the fabric of his hakama. Itachi made the mistake of looking down to plant a foot and one of Naomi’s fists connected with his jaw, sending him scattering across the floor.

On some level, he understood her rage. She’d caught him snooping around the manor’s main house--it was an evening when he expected everyone to be away at Yoshiwara, and he’d even watched several of the family members wandering into a comedian’s studio at the edge of the district. He should have counted them all up before coming back to their manor to spy. He should have looked around better before diving into the family library.

In retrospect though--Itachi ducked under one of Naomi’s kicks, shuddering as the cotton end of her yukata slipped over his ear--his real fault was in his carelessness at the Tachibana manor. On his way in he’d shut the servant-quarters door too loudly, which had likely tipped Naomi off in the first place, and he hadn’t tied up the loose ends of his clothing when he had the chance.

And, he drank that strange bottle sitting next to Tachibana Hachirou’s caligraphy supplies.

It wasn’t strange at first. It just looked like a little sake bottle--the good kind, the expensive kind. The kind that only an emperor can buy a whole bottle of, and even then only once a year. It was the sort of liquor that a man would miss dearly if it were gone.

So he drank it. If he was going to lash out at the universe for pushing him to marry, it may as well be there.

That turned out to be a horrible idea. Whatever was in the bottle, it wasn’t any old liquor. The second he smelled bathwater and perfume oil down the hall from the open-air bath, he was immediately hard. It wouldn’t go away, even when his stumbling steps alerted Naomi a second time, even after she kicked him in the stomach and threw him through a partition wall.

Now, with Naomi sitting on his stomach, that hardness was downright uncomfortable. It wasn’t fading away, even with her shouting down at him, grabbing him by the torn-open lapels oh his haori and shaking violently.

“What do you think you’re doing in our home!” she raged. “Snooping through our things? Wandering toward my bath?” Naomi dug her nails into his loosened collar and pulled him sideways until she had him rolled over, facedown on the laquered floor of the manor’s tearoom. “You’re that Uchiha son, right? The one from their family painting, the one father said I was going to marry? You’ve got some nerve coming here alone at night.”

Itachi groaned. His skin burned, and though the chilly floor initially felt like a brand, something about it became thrilling once Naomi straddled his back. She forced a wrist behind his back and pinned it there with her knee, shifting her weight forward.

“It wasn’t… anything untoward,” Itachi grumbled into the floor. “I was trying to learn about the family before the wedding.”

“Nothing untoward, huh?” A little tap of coiled-up jute landing on the back of his neck set his hair on end; he squirmed, but the contents of that little bottle had left him weak. Of course she was armed. What had he been thinking? “Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to tie you down and leave you in the garden until my father comes back.” She scoffed gently and grumbled through gritted teeth: “Maybe the cold air will calm you down.”

The second a rope wound around his wrist, Itachi felt his cock throb. He cried out, muffled by the floor and Naomi’s body weight, as his erection pressed uncomfortably into the chilly planks. Even so, the gentle tug of the bind felt better than he’d imagined anything could feel; when she forced the middle of the rope under his throat and around the back of his neck, he couldn’t help but moan.

“Stop that,” Naomi chided. Was it Itachi’s imagination, or did her voice waver just a little? The binds tightened, and he hissed gently, biting at his lip in an attempt to regain his mental fortitude. “You’ve not going to… no, this isn’t seductive at all. Stop whining so much and just let me tie you up!”

Itachi pressed his cheek against the floor, feeling sweat prickling at his brow. “I can’t help it. That liquor… there was something wrong with it.”

“Liquor?” Naomi brought his other hand around his back, and his fingers brushed the exposed skin of her belly as she pressed it to his other hand. “You didn’t get anywhere near the cellar, I think. Just the…”

As she spoke, Naomi looped his hands together and sent the rope around his neck again, then created a braid in the center of his back. She tugged on it and pulled him sideways again, onto his back once more, her hand on the braid keeping his wrists bound beneath him. Silently, she looked him up and down, brows furrowed.

“... you didn’t go into father’s room, did you?”

Itachi cleared his throat. At some point while he was facedown, Naomi’s yukata had come almost fully untied. He could see a wide swath of porcelain-pale skin all the way down to her navel, the gentle arch of her sternum between her breasts, the muscles of her shoulders peeking out from the neck of her garment. “I might have. The one in the northwest corner?”

Naomi’s eyes seared him; she spent ages looking at his exposed torso, his dissheveled hair, his achingly hard dick. “That wasn’t liquor,” she muttered, a light pink rising through her throat. “But, you know… maybe you can pay me back for breaking into my home.”

“Pay you--”

A warm, perfume-oil-scented cloth dropped over his face: her yukata. He struggled to toss it away, hearing her shift on her knees and feeling the weight on his belly lift. When her free hand snuck into his haori, into his underkimono and over the tented front of his hakama, he whimpered, drawing a rather superior-sounding laugh from her. “Tachibana--”

“--call me Naomi for now.” One hand fumbled with the tie of his hakama, and he arched gently into the touch, sighing when she finally opened the knot. “You seem eager, Uchiha. What was your name? Itachi?”

Itachi nodded as well as he could with the yukata covering his face. On top of him, Naomi worked the garment down to his thighs, and he struggled a leg out of it while her hand explored his exposed cock. 

“Well, Itachi,” she breathed. “Let’s hope my family stays out for a while, hm?”

\--

Naomi sighed happily, head lolling to her shoulder, as she dropped back onto Itachi’s lap. 

He wondered if her thighs weren’t starting to ache--she’d been riding him for longer than he thought most people could hold that position. Not that he was complaining. That drugged bottle made every thrust feel like a brand. It was all he could do to not moan with every stroke.

“Whatever you found,” Naomi panted, “it’s good stuff.” With her free hand, she reached up to push her short-cropped hair off her forehead; with the other, she tugged at the braided end of the jute rope. “I wasn’t sure you could go this long.”

“Mystery bottles are a blessing in disguise,” he murmured. “Faster, please.”

Naomi cackled, grinding her hips against his and smiling down at his twisted-up expression. “Too late for that, now. What I can do for you…”

She moved a hand to her belly, dropping the braid, and slithered her fingers towards her clit. A little arch progressed through her back, showing off the fine muscles of a trained fighter, and she swiped a hand over the swollen nub, clenching tight around Itachi.

In an instant, Itachi kicked his leg forward and hooked it around Naomi’s neck. She squealed, cut off by the strike of his heel, and before she was given a chance to react was thrown over on her back. Just as quickly as his attack was launched, Itachi found himself perched over her.

His face, still red, had suddenly taken a much different look; he watched her hawkishly, a calculating, mischievous smile beginning to crease his face. “The thing about hojojutsu, that tie in particular” he murmured, “is that you need to keep the rope tense. If you let go of it, the whole thing comes apart.”

Naomi opened her mouth to protest, but a wadded-up bundle of rope shut off any shouts before she could voice them. For a moment she seemed primed to snatch them away, one hand reaching for Itachi’s untied hair, though her hand stopped short when a now-freed hand slipped across her clit. 

“You’re welcome to leave if this doesn’t suit you,” Itachi said. “I just thought this might be a nice change of pace.”

Underneath him, Naomi’s look of rage melted into a simmering one. She groaned and pressed her hips into his fingers, shutting her eyes and letting her head fall aside.

Itachi worked one wrist out, shaking feeling back into his fingers, and pulled her up to his folded legs. He pressed the head of his cock against her, teasing a fingertip along her clit until she writhed. “Is that a yes I hear?” he asked.

“It’s a yes,” she whined. “Come on, I was so close earlier…”

With a heady chuckle, Itachi pressed a finger deep into her, probing her soft walls and watching the muscles of her neck clench in response. “Let’s finish you off, then.” He slowly dragged his finger back out, flicking it over her clit just to watch her jump, and slid his cock in to the root.

His thighs ached, sitting in this position with another person’s weight on his lap, but the tradeoff--the view--was perfect. The hand he’d just worked back into shape slipped up Naomi’s belly to grab at her breasts, fingers sinking into her bath-puffy skin. She moaned, showing her teeth when his hips slammed a little too hard against her thighs, and made a grab for his hair.

Her fingernails skipped off his scalp; the way she jerked his head down by the hair, combined with the ever-tightening clench of her muscles, drew him close to his limit. Itachi shuddered, pressed his thumb up and across her clit sharply, and drew his free hand back down to grip her waist.

Only a sharp slap to the center of his chest reminded Itachi to draw back. He groaned deeply, a rasp in the back of his throat, as he came on her stomach; the clenching motion of her belly told him the steady pressure of his hand did the same for her, and her open-mouthed, silent rapture confirmed the same. Itachi managed to watch the red rush over her face for a moment or two in the space between his swimming vision and an overwhelming desire to rest. What little glimpse he got before he hit the floor beside Naomi, he savored it. 

\--

“So,” Naomi began. “We won’t tell my family about this.”

Itachi nodded. “Nor mine.”

Naomi was the first to sit up, peeling her sweat-sticky back from the lacquer floor. “Well, I’m glad to have met you, even if you were a little… intense tonight.” She smirked. “I’m sure you’re not like that all the time.”

Frowning, Itachi rolled to his side and lifted himself into a kneel. “Well, I apologize for that. I was a little upset. Shouldn’t have drank anything I didn’t recognize.”

Beside him, Naomi shrugged. “It worked out, didn’t it?” She remained silent for a while, then sighed gently. “Sorry I tied you up like a criminal. Even if you are a criminal, technically.”

Facing opposite directions, the two sat in silence for a moment, shoulders touching, pulses in sync. Naomi moved to stand first, hesitated a moment, then offered her hand to Itachi, eyes cast aside.

“See you again in ten days?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
